The Course of History

The above picture does not belong to me.

The following story, though available to view by everyone, is especially dedicated to my very best friend in honor of her 18th birthday. Happy birthday, Leka darling, and I hope this story is to your liking!

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Finding yourself is one of the most dangerous things in the world.

They say if you change yourself enough, if you dig deep enough, you can alter your entire being. You can scratch at the wards around you until each layer shifts aside and falls away like the piles of sand you push aside, crumbles like so many layers of dried mud, scraped off with a vigor that digs at things you never wanted to touch, never wanted a single soul to realize.

He scratched too many times and the fire almost wasn’t enough. The molten heat almost couldn’t melt the skin until it rebuilt itself with only the ghostly reminder of burns unhealed.

She tossed and turned. Her nails scratching, her teeth biting, her soul squirming under her heart’s single insistent beat that this wasn’t her.

“Finding yourself is one of the most dangerous things in the world,” he told her.